


Cheers, Darlin'

by assbuttsinlove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Coda, Comfort, M/M, Possible Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:44:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assbuttsinlove/pseuds/assbuttsinlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finds himself at the bottom of a bottle of Jack. (9x10 coda)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cheers, Darlin'

 

"..and I lied, I should have kissed you when we were running in the rain.." 

Dean finds himself at the bottom of a bottle of Jack.

It’s warm and familiar, the amber liquid burning a trail down his throat and pooling in the pit of his stomach. Outside, the rain is still falling, even harder now than before and he gets up, stumbling drunkenly over to the window. He pulls back the tacky curtain and stares out at the Impala, watching as fat raindrops trail down the inky black metal and onto the ground.

He wants to go outside and stand in the rain. He wonders if perhaps it will wash away some of the guilt he feels, the little bits and pieces that the whiskey hasn’t managed to whittle away. He hiccups and giggles, sliding down to the floor once more, the room spinning wildly around him.

It’s been a long time since he’s had this much to drink. It’s been a long time since he’s felt the need to be this…numb. The bottle glints at him from it’s post on the bedside table, but he can’t will himself to get up from the floor. He laughs again, a hollow sound, rattling around in his chest and he covers his face with his hand. His laughter soon turns into wrecked sobs, and tears pool in his eyes, run down his cheeks and tip into his ears. He cries until his throat is sore, until his lips are swollen and his eyes are puffy and red rimmed.

Sam hates him, he’s pretty sure Sammy hates him. Why would he ever want to be in the same room with him ever again? Why would you want to be in the same room with someone who basically tricked you into letting a murderous angel inside of your body? With someone who tricked you into saying…yes? Dean chuckles bitterly and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes until he’s seeing stars. He won’t blame Sam for hating him, he can’t. And at the end of the day, if that’s the price he has to pay for his brother to live, then he would pay it, happily.

He hiccups again and closes his eyes, trying to stop the next batch of tears that are threatening to spill down his cheeks but he can’t fight them, and when he opens them again, they come tumbling down. He pulls himself up to a sitting position, pressing his back against the edge of the bed and tastes the saltiness of his tears on his lips.

Everything hurts, and he hates himself for drinking so much. He hates how the room spins and how the whiskey tastes in his mouth.

He hates that he’s alone.

In his pocket, his phone buzzes and he digs it out with some difficulty. He doesn’t even recognize the phone number, but he presses the answer key and presses the phone up to his ear.

“Lo?” he slurs.

There’s a delicate pause, and then, there’s Cas. “Dean?” he breathes, his voice soft and warm, over the line.

Dean sniffles. “Yo,” he says with a laugh. He can almost hear Cas frowning over the phone.

“Dean are you alright?” he asks.

“Never been better,” he says with a hiccup.

“You’re drunk,” Cas says. There’s no intonation in his voice, no judgment, simply, observation.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Dean snaps. He immediately regrets it, scrunching up his face and sighing.

“You’re upset. Let me come to you,” he says.

Dean almost starts crying again. Sometimes he can’t handle Cas. Sometimes it’s too much, and the amount of love he feels in his chest for the angel scares him. He swallows thickly against a knot in his throat, the size of an orange and his chest aches. “You can’t fix me, Cas,” he says miserably.

“I don’t want to fix you. I like you the way you are.”

Dean opens and closes his mouth, like a fish, and no words come out.

“Dean? Come home, please,” Cas whispers. There’s something more hidden in his voice, and Dean has to take a deep, steadying breath.

The room is still spinning.

“I can’t. You know that,” he says. As the minutes tick by, he finds himself loosing some of his buzz. Cas’ breathing on the other end of the line is steady and sure and he doesn’t seem to have any plans on hanging up at any time soon. “Sammy hates me, I’m sure,” he slurs.

“Sam doesn’t hate you. He’s upset, yes, but, you’re his brother, you were simply trying to help him,” Cas says.

Dean makes a dismissive sound. “I’d hate me for what I did…wait, I do hate me for what I did,” he says with a snort.

“Why are you doing this?” Cas asks.

“Doing what? Having a good time?” Dean asks.

“Don’t do this to yourself, Dean. Don’t drag yourself down into that—”

“Just one of the perks of the job, Cas,” Dean says, cutting him off.

“Do you think I like hearing you like this?” Cas asks.

“Like what?” Dean grumbles.

“Blaming yourself for something that was completely out of your control?”

“Out of my control, Cas? Are we both watching the same fucking show here?” Dean asks roughly.

Cas doesn’t respond, but Dean hears him breathing, soft and steady.

They both fall silent once more as Dean struggles to get up off the floor. He walks, or rather stumbles, over to the bed and plops down on it.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“Remember…when you said…you needed me?” Cas asks, his voice steady.

Dean closes his eyes and nods. “How could I forget. Really put my…dick out on the line there,” he says with a rueful chuckle.

They both remain silent for a few moments while Dean settles himself on the bed.

“Well…I…I need you too,” Cas says eventually. He listens, but is greeted by silence.

“Dean?”

Dean snores softly, unaware of Cas’ breathing on the other end of the line.

* * *

He wakes up expecting to be sore, hung over, and sick, but instead he feels warm and comfortable. It’s only when he opens his eyes, he realizes that he’s wrapped up in a thick blanket, clinging onto Cas for dear life. He jumps back and lets out a yelp and Cas opens his eyes.

“Hello, Dean,” he whispers.

“Jesus Christ, Cas, give a guy a warning!” he snaps angrily.

Cas smiles at him and shifts on the bed. “I trust you slept well?” he asks.

Dean rubs a hand across his face and sits up. “You were here all night?” he asks incredulously. “How?” he asks.

“Sam tracked your credit card activity. And I’m an angel. Locks don’t pose too much of a threat to me,” he says with a little smirk.

Dean rolls his eyes and observes him warily. “Why did you come?” he asks, rubbing the stubble on his jaw.

Cas looks at him, a small smile on his face and then he looks away. “Because I wanted to, needed to,” he says.

Dean frowns. “What happened to my hangover?” he asks gruffly.

Cas looks down at his hands. “Sam was worried about you,” he says simply.

Dean bristles. “Doesn’t he know I’m a big boy. I can handle my liquor,” he snaps angrily.

Cas sighs and turns on him. “You vomited twice last night when I arrived. Don’t you remember? I had to clean you up, Dean,” he says in a clipped voice.

Dean stares at him, confused. “You…you what?”

Cas chuckles bitterly and looks away. “If you want your hangover, I can give it back to you,” he says. He pushes the covers off his legs and shifts, but Dean reaches out and grabs onto his arm, pulling him back toward him.

“Hey,” he says softly. He licks his lips and marvels at the fact that Cas has stopped, that this huge celestial being still stops for him. Cas’ arm is warm and solid beneath his hand and he squeezes lightly.

Cas reluctantly turns back to Dean and stares at him, his forehead creased. “Dean…” he says softly.

“I must have said some shitty things to you last night,” he says quietly.

Cas doesn’t respond, rather he sets his mouth into a thin line and stares straight ahead.

“I’m sorry, Cas. Sorry for…”

Cas turns to him and cuts him off with a soft kiss on the lips, effectively stealing his breath, stealing the rest of his apology. He reaches up and gently cups Dean’s hand in his face, caressing his cheekbones with his thumbs.

Dean moans softly into his mouth, leaning into the kiss, the touch, feeling his heart flip backwards in his chest at the feel of Cas so close to him, their bodies pressed up against each other.

Cas pulls back and stares at him, still cupping his face in his hands. “Stop apologizing, please, I’m tired of it,” he rumbles.

Dean looks down, feeling a blush creep into his cheeks.

Cas lets go and drops his hands down into his lap. “I wish you could see how beautiful you are,” he says softly.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Ah, cut the crap, Cas. Handsome, maybe, beautiful, no,” he says.

Cas reaches forward and holds on to Dean’s hands. “No Dean. When I say beautiful, I mean beautiful. You give so much of yourself, you do so much good, yet you continue to let the opinions of others weigh down so heavily upon you,” he says.

“What have you been doing all this time, reading Deepak Chopra?” Dean snarks.

Cas shakes his head and sighs. “This is not a joke, Dean, I’m serious,” he says.

Dean swallows thickly and looks down. “I am serous, Cas. I don’t know if…I don’t think I’m beautiful. Yeah sure, I’ve saved a couple lives but…I’ve ruined much more. Everyone around me dies. Some of them more than others,” he says with a soft chuckle, looking up at him.

Cas reaches forward and gingerly plants his hands on Dean’s waist, curling his fingers into the soft skin beneath his thin shirt. “I realize that perhaps…words are not as comforting as this,” he says.

Dean stares at him curiously. “As what?”

Cas swallows thickly and inches closer to him. “As touch,” he says.

Dean lets out a shuddering breath and closes his eyes. He allows Cas to pull him in and wrap his arms around him. It’s awkward and strange for a moment and then he settles in, presses his chest against Cas’ and hooks his chin on his shoulder. He feels tears prickle at his eyes but he blinks them away. “When did you get good at hugging?” Dean asks quietly.

Cas hums and chuckles. When they pull back, Dean’s eyes are a little glazed over and he quickly turns away.

“You should get back to Sammy,” he says.

Cas huffs at him. “Sam is fine. I’m here for you, right now,” he scolds.

Dean sighs and eases back down onto his pillows, pulling the covers back up over his legs and up to his chest.

Cas lies down next to him and smiles when Dean snuggles close to him, pressing his head against his chest and splaying a hand out on his belly.

“Why did we take so long to do this?” he asks.

Cas shrugs. “Because we’re a couple of dumb asses, I suppose,” he says dryly.

“Hey, less dumb, less ass,” Dean grumbles.

Cas looks down at him and smiles. “So…just a couple then?” he asks. The question hangs in the air, palpable, and Dean opens his eyes to look up at him. After a few heart beats he smiles and snuggles up to Cas once more.

“Yeah, just a couple,” he says tiredly. He yawns. “You don’t sleep anymore, right?” he asks.

“I can, if I want to,” Cas replies.

Dean hums. “Sleep with me?” he asks, his voice groggy.

Cas nods and wraps an arm around his shoulder pulling him in closer. “I have time,” he whispers.

As Dean falls asleep in his arms he closes his eyes and wills himself to drift off into a light slumber.

 _I **always** have time for you, Dean Winchester, **always**_ , he thinks just before he falls asleep.


End file.
